When we think of lone wolves, we often picture literal wolves who roam alone. But in nature, there are other animals and species that embody this lone wolf mentality—creatures that typically go against the grain of social species and prefer solitary lives for various survival, hunting, or evolutionary reasons. Wolves are highly social animals that live in structured packs, which are typically composed of a dominant pair (the alpha male and female) and their offspring. These packs are cooperative, with members relying on each other for hunting, protection, and raising young. The notion of a wolf consistently preferring to be alone is not typical for healthy wolves in stable environments.

However, there are cases where a wolf might temporarily become a “lone wolf”, such as

Adolescent wolves leave their packs to find a mate and establish their own territory, becoming solitary for a time during this transition.

Sometimes, wolves that are injured, older, or ousted from their pack may end up alone, but this is often a result of circumstance, not preferenceBas wolves have intricate social structures, and part of that includes care for older and weaker members of the pack. Unlike the typical “survival of the fittest” narrative where weaker animals are abandoned, wolves often show a strong sense of cooperation and loyalty that extends to their elderly.

Yet, these instances are usually temporary rather than a preferred, permanent state of being for wolves. Most wolves aim to form or join packs as they benefit from the cooperation and social bonds that come with it.

Wolves are highly social animals that operate in packs, and part of this pack behaviour includes caring for injured, sick, or older members. Older wolves, while no longer active hunters, can still contribute to the pack through experience and knowledge, especially in guiding younger wolves on hunting strategies and territorial navigation.

There are documented instances where wolves bring back food to older or weaker wolves. The pack shares resources, especially during times when older wolves cannot hunt for themselves. This behaviour suggests a communal care system that allows elderly wolves to remain part of the social structure, even when they can no longer participate in active hunts.

Older wolves also play a role in maintaining pack cohesion. They often take on the role of mentors to younger wolves, helping to teach them essential survival skills. This mentorship shows that even when wolves age, they still have a valued place within their community, further indicating that wolves do not easily abandon their elderly.

While wolves are indeed hunters and survive through cooperation, they also exhibit a compassionate and supportive social system, especially within tight-knit packs. The elderly or weaker members are not discarded but rather supported, showing how complex and nuanced their social behaviours are.

In contrast to human culture, where some societies struggle with how to care for aging populations, wolves demonstrate a biological and instinctual system of care that ensures every member, regardless of age or strength, has a role and remains integrated into the pack.

It’s true that wolves, despite their cooperative and supportive pack dynamics, can display aggressive and even lethal behaviour toward one another in certain situations. Like many social animals, wolves live in a complex hierarchy that requires constant negotiation, and sometimes this leads to conflict, especially when pack structure is threatened or resources are scarce.

Younger wolves, especially adolescents, may exhibit more aggressive and competitive behaviours as they test boundaries within the pack. This is common in many social animals. In wolves, this phase typically occurs when younger wolves try to find their place within the pack hierarchy or when they begin to disperse from the pack to form their own families. It’s not unusual for young wolves to challenge older siblings or even their parents during this phase. However, these interactions are rarely fatal and are part of the social learning process. This aggression in wolf packs—particularly among younger wolves—does tend to decrease as they mature and the pack dynamics stabilize over time. This change is often influenced by the natural process of aging and the shift in roles as wolves grow older.

As wolves age, their behaviour tends to calm and become more cooperative. Much like in humans, where youthful rebellion can give way to more reflective or communal behavior, wolves settle into their roles within the pack as they mature. The once aggressive adolescents might take on leadership roles or leave to form their own packs. This reduction in aggression over time reflects the broader principle of entropy—where systems, including social systems, naturally seek equilibrium and order as they evolve.

The concept of entropy from physics can metaphorically apply here. In thermodynamics, entropy often leads systems towards greater disorder, but in social dynamics, entropy over time can lead to stability or a reduction in internal conflict as members of the group find their roles and systems of cooperation develop.

This same principle applies to wolves as the pack matures. The youthful aggression is a temporary state, an energetic phase in which boundaries are tested, but it is not the defining characteristic of wolf life. As time passes, the pack works towards a state of balanced cooperation—a kind of equilibrium where survival is prioritized over internal strife.

In wolf packs, this means that after the youthful phase of competition and testing, the pack tends to settle into a more cooperative and stable structure. Older wolves may take on mentorship roles and contribute through their experience, while the pack as a whole becomes more focused on survival and reproduction, rather than internal competition.

The lone wolf myth persists largely because of its symbolic appeal, especially in human culture, where it represents independence, self-sufficiency, and defiance of social norms. However, from a biological perspective, wolves are much more successful and content in packs. Studies show that wolves in packs have better chances of survival, as hunting and protecting territory are much more effective when done cooperatively.

In human culture, the lone wolf archetype is often romanticized in literature and media, representing a figure who operates outside societal norms and exhibits traits like independence and resilience. This imagery has little to do with actual wolf behavior but speaks more to human experiences of solitude and independence. The term has also been used in darker contexts, such as for individuals who act violently or defiantly without clear ties to a group, further distorting the natural behavior of wolves.

While the lone wolf archetype holds cultural significance, it is a myth when it comes to wolf behavior. Wolves thrive in packs, and only become solitary under specific, often unfortunate, circumstances. Therefore, using the lone wolf as a metaphor for independent or antisocial behavior is more about human projection than it is about the animal’s natural instincts. Octopuses, especially the larger species like the giant Pacific octopus, are intelligent and solitary sea creatures. Outside of mating, they live alone in their dens, hunting by themselves and using their intelligence to solve problems. Their solitary existence helps them avoid predators and competitors alike.

Snow leopards are incredibly elusive and solitary creatures, often referred to as “ghosts of the mountain.” They thrive alone, patrolling vast territories across rugged terrains in the Himalayas and Central Asia. Much like their snow leopard cousins, leopards prefer a solitary lifestyle. They are nocturnal hunters, preferring to move silently through their territories alone. Unlike lions, they are highly independent, and this isolation helps them avoid confrontations with other predators. Their solitary nature isn’t so much about avoiding social interaction as it is about surviving in harsh environments where food is scarce, and they must hunt for themselves. Tigers, especially the Siberian and Bengal tigers, are among the most iconic of solitary hunters. Unlike lions, which are highly social, tigers stake out large territories, and outside of mating season or motherhood, they prefer to keep to themselves. This independence is critical for hunting large prey without interference and ensuring their survival in diverse ecosystems. Adult polar bears are mostly solitary creatures, driven to isolation by the need to cover large areas to find food in the Arctic wilderness. While mothers will stay with their cubs, adult males roam great distances alone, hunting for seals and other prey. Wolverines are known for their fierce independence. These powerful animals live in remote wildernesses and are often seen as aggressive, territorial, and solitary. They cover massive distances in search of food, and their tenacity and strength have become symbolic of their lone nature.

The Eurasian lynx is another predator that prefers a solitary existence. These big cats roam vast forests, hunting independently and only seeking company during mating seasons. Their isolation helps them maintain control over their territory and food sources.

In considering these “lone wolves” across species, there’s a common thread: independence driven by necessity. Whether it’s due to harsh environments, territorial needs, or the solitary nature of their hunting strategies, these animals embody resilience and strength through their solitude.

There’s no malice in the way I interact with people or ideas, but I realize there’s something about certainty that I love to toy with—and in society, especially today, that can come across as toxic. It’s like when you challenge someone’s belief or expose the cracks in their absolute truths, they react. Hard. People get defensive, as if questioning something means attacking their very core. And here I am, sitting in my brightly-colored frog skin, poking at these certainties, watching the ripples it creates.

Maybe that’s the toxicity. Not the venomous kind, but more the kind that rattles cages, makes people uncomfortable. I do it instinctively, without meaning to harm. But there’s something magnetic about certainty—it’s like a target painted bright red, and I can’t help but take aim. In a world that craves answers and quick fixes, I find myself constantly pointing out the fragility of those quick certainties. And yeah, sometimes I push too hard. Sometimes I forget not everyone’s playing the same game of deconstruction.

It’s like I dance with the idea of “knowing” something, only to flip it on its head and say, “But do you, really?” People hate that. I get it—it feels like I’m pulling the rug out from under them. But isn’t that where growth happens? Right in that moment where your feet lose the ground and you’re forced to find balance again? The problem is, society doesn’t always have the patience for that kind of play. Certainty is comforting, and here I come with my bright colors, causing discomfort. I see how that can come off as toxic.

But I have to laugh at myself sometimes. I’m not here to ruin anyone’s day, just to poke at the truths we take for granted. I don’t want to be toxic—I just like the chaos of unknowing. It’s like a cosmic prank that I can’t help but participate in. After all, the river’s not the same, and neither is the frog sitting by it, bright colors and all.